


Rescue

by LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife



Series: A New Start [16]
Category: Belgravia (TV)
Genre: Angst, Class Differences, F/M, Friendship, Mrs Brown knows how to rub things properly, Repressed Feelings, Servants, Victorian Attitudes, victorian london
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife/pseuds/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife
Summary: 5 times Mr Turton comes to the rescue +1 time that Lady Morgan does.-A plan to boost his meagre pension fund and to give him a comfortable life after retirement has all gone terribly wrong for charismatic butler Turton! He's been given the old 'heave ho', kicked out on his ear with only the most basic of references. What is he going to do next?The lone wolf that is Amos Turton has to start all over again. Learning how to fit into this new, weird household is tricky when you're used to following your own rules. Within the confines of the rigid Victorian class system of course. Well, mostly... He's keeping quiet, biding his time and thinking of the money and his pension pot!Victorian London is really not a kind place for the serving classes and definitely not a good place to be destitute and poor. Which he is in danger of becoming...-Set in the Belgravia - TV Series and Book verse. All this takes place after episode 6 - the finale of the TV series - and after the book has finished.It is the early 1840s.-Alright Bambinos, please read and enjoy!
Series: A New Start [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014321
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Rescue

**1\. The glove.**

He squinted down at the glove, recognising the delicate embroidery upon it. He bent down and picked it up, rescuing it from the gutter puddle outside the house where it was half in and half out of. It was his Lady's favourite glove! Well, one of the pair of them anyway. He wrung it out, wrapped it in his handkerchief and went down the stairs to the servants entrance of the house. He traversed the room, heading over towards the sink. Feeling the weight of Mrs Brown's knowing stare upon his back as he did so. He felt his cheeks redden and heat as he rinsed out the glove.

"Here, try these Mr Turton," Mrs Brown placed a carton of soap flakes next to him.

"Thank you Mrs Brown," he waited for a comment.

"Maybe you can save her Ladyship some money and do her laundry for her, instead of her sending it out to be done," Mrs Brown commented, as she stood, watching him scrub.

_ Ah… here we go _ , he thought, his scrubbing sped up and his teeth clenched together.

"Although you'd need to be a bit gentler with her Ladyship's more  _ delicate _ items. If you goes about them like  _ that _ , you'll likely cause an injury to them," she cackled.

"Thank you, Mrs Brown!" he paused in his scrubbing and squinted his eyes at her.

"Honestly! You men! So rough with your rubbing. Gentle delicate touches always work much better you know, in achieving the  _ desired _ result…" she winked at him.

"Mrs Brown!" he glared. "You are obviously referring to something  _ other _ than  _ clothing _ , and not having a mind in the gutter, like yourself, I would ask you to either be plain or to refrain from your lewd  _ insinuations! _ "

"Oh dearie me Mr Turton. If I has to explain my reference, then I think you may implode," she cackled. "All I'll say is that any Lady would much prefer you to touch her gently than to rub so harshly," she added.

"Well, that is bloody obvious, woman! No one likes to be rubbed harshly, until they are raw! Anyone would prefer to be treated more gently!" he continued with his scrubbing again, this time, a little less vigorously than before.

"Oh and you may want to concentrate on rubbing in small circles there on that  _ particular _ spot Mr Turton," she pointed at a place on the glove. "You may find that you achieve a better, more  _ satisfying _ result," she looked down at him. Keeping her face neutral under his intense stare.

"Do you not have any work to be getting on with Mrs Brown?"

"I does. But I do so like watching a man who isn't afraid to put his hands to good use," she grinned at him.

He harrumphed and wrung out the now clean glove. He gave Mrs Brown one final frown, then took himself and the glove off to his office. Being followed out of the kitchen by Mrs Brown's knowing cackles.

-

**2\. The pigeon.**

Young Lucy hopped along the pavement outside the house, chasing after a pigeon. 

"Wait, love," Mrs Morgan shouted out.

The young girl didn't listen, instead continued chasing after the elusive bird. It hopped into the road. 

"Lucy!  _ Stop! _ "

Mr Turton, ran, grabbing the unheeding child, pulling her back as a carriage sped past. Handing her over to her mother who had ran up to them.

"Lucy! You mustn't run off like that!" she pulled her daughter in towards her. A mumbled 'sorry, mummy' was heard from within the confines of her tight hug.

"Thank you Mr Turton! Thank you!" she whispered to him, roughly swiping at her tears with her hand. 

"My Lady," he offered her his handkerchief.

-

**3\. The thorn.**

He brought her into the kitchen, sitting her at the table while he fetched a bowl of warm water, placing her hand in it. 

He left her there, telling her not to move, while he retrieved the small kit from his room.

He withdrew her hand from the water, gently patting it dry with a napkin. He held her hand in his, no gloves impeding his touch. He tilted it, spying the dark spot on the side of her index finger. He picked up the tweezers, looking up at her, asking permission. She nodded. 

A small gasp from her and the horrible thorn was removed. He dabbed some iodine onto the tiny wound and wrapped her finger in a small bandage, tying it off neatly. He peered down at her small hand as he held it in his two larger ones. So delicate, so warm, he daringly swiped a thumb over her knuckles, waiting for her to pull away in horror at this unwanted attention, but she didn't, she just moved her hand to squeeze his. 

"Thank you, Mr Turton," she whispered up at him.

He placed her hand back down, reluctantly relinquishing his hold on her.

"It is no matter, my Lady," he replied. He wrenched his eyes away from hers, stood and bustled around, tidying away the accoutrements of his small medical procedure.

-

**4\. The puddle.**

They're on the site of the newest almshouses. Not that there were any yet, it was just a muddy, puddle ridden field. Mr Jones moved her carriage forwards, going in a loop to turn it around. The horses trotted back towards where Mr Turton and Lady Morgan walked along some boards towards the main tents and shacks of the building site. The carriage wheels and the horses kicked up clods of mud and sprays of water. 

Mr Turton moved from slightly behind her, to her side, shielding her from the thrown up dirt as the horses and carriage went past. Her dress was mostly saved, but his brown suit was ruined.

She took his old suit from him, for the rag and bone man to put to good use. 

A new, completely identical suit was folded neatly upon his desk a week later.

-

**5\. The horse.**

"Stand back! Watch out! Clear the way!"

Mr Turton looked over, a runaway horse was thundering towards them, it's reins flapping loosely behind it. A man running after, shouting a warning. He looked around, Mrs Morgan was standing on the path, frozen, staring at the animal as it neared. He ran and grabbed her, dragging her over to the side. He pulled her back into him, pressing them flush against the railings as the animal sped past. It was so close that his hair and jacket tails were ruffled as he held her, keeping himself between the beast and her person.

_ She could have been killed! Taken from me! _ that thought terrified him. Her forehead and hands rested upon his chest. His arms were around her, resting gently upon her waist, his grip increased, holding her there. He pulled back slightly, allowing her to raise her head, to peer up at him. They paused, staring at each other. He looked down, dropping his face towards hers, moving lower, closer…

"Are you alright, miss?"

Mr Turton jumped back, releasing his hold on her, dropping his hands from her, moving away. 

Her hands fell away from the warmth of his person. She clasped them tightly around each other in front of herself. She dare not look up at Mr Turton, even though she could feel the intense heat of his gaze pressing down upon her. She looked up to address the cab driver.

"Oh, yes. Thank you," she said.

The cabbie held his runaway horse by its reins. It snorted and shook its head. He patted it's neck, calming it down.

"Poor Hercules here, he got spooked by a young 'un screaming. It's a good job you're man was here, eh?" the cabbie said.

"Yes. Wasn't it?" She raised her eyes and smiled up at Mr Turton who was staring over at her.

"Well… er… excuse me miss, Sir. I'll leave you both to it!" he winked at them.

"Thank you," Mrs Morgan said, wrenching her eyes away from Mr Turton again.

Mr Turton nodded at the cabbie, watching him depart. He bent down and retrieved her fallen parasol, holding it out towards her. 

"My Lady…" 

"Thank you, Mr Turton," she accepted the parasol, clutching it tightly against her, peering down at it.

"Come now, the lawyers are waiting for you, my Lady," he moved, holding an arm out for her to continue walking. Their offices were just along the street they had been walking along.

"Oh… thank you…" she raised her head, smiling brightly up at him. She felt her cheeks heat as he smiled down at her. Her feet finally moved, and he fell in step next to her.

"A close call…"

"Yeeees…" she answered.

"After you, my Lady," he held the door to the lawyers offices open for her.

"Thank you kindly, Mr Turton," she placed a hand on his arm, "for everything." She smiled up at him, removed her hand, and entered the building.

-

**Plus 1 - The accusation.**

She exited the architect's office, frowning at the sound of noisy shouting. Mr Turton had exited just five minutes before her, heading out to the carriage. She turned her head towards the source, recognising one of the voices, the more calmer one. It belonged to him, Mr Turton. His voice, as well as another raised male voice and a female one were coming from where her carriage stood. She recognised neither of those other two voices. 

Mr Jones rushed up to her.

"Ma'am, you need to come quickly!"

"What is going on Mr Jones?"

"A gentleman has taken to shouting at Mr Turton!"

"What?" she strode over to the scene, Mr Jones following closely after.

They round the back of the carriage and she paused, observing the scene in front of her.

Mr Turton was standing there, while a gentleman was shouting angrily at him. Well, she assumed he was a gentleman, from his dress. He would not be warranted the title of one if you were to just observe his rude manner. A younger woman and her maid are standing over to the side. The young woman was holding her hands over her mouth while the lady's maid looked on at the scene, holding a crumpled package, with a look of unabashed glee upon her face.

"Excuse me, Sir, but what appears to be the problem here?" Mrs Morgan approached the two men, causing the gentleman to stop his shouting and peer down at her.

"This is a private matter, Madam, so it is none of your business!"

"It is fully my business, when it is my staff that you are shouting at, Sir!"

The gentleman paused, looking down at her.

"So, I will ask you again, what appears to be the problem here, Sir?"

"Mr Turton manhandled and shoved my Lady here, causing her to become scared and to drop a parcel, the new gown within being completely ruined," the ladies maid interjected.

"That is a falsity, Miss Speer and you well know it! I merely urged you both to move aside so as to prevent you both from being injured as Mr Jones turned the carriage around," Mr Turton retorted. "The parcel dropping was an accident!"

"It's true Ma'am, I saw all from my seat," Mr Jones added.

"Psh! You would believe that criminal over my Lady here?" the maid retorted, addressing Lady Morgan directly, with no honorific.

Mrs Morgan glared at the maid, then turned towards the gentleman again.

"I would caution you to tell your servant to take care over who they are addressing, and their manner of address, Sir!" Mrs Morgan spoke clearly.

The gentleman turned towards the young lady.

"Daughter, you will hush your maid. You will inform her not to address a  _ Countess _ like that, or at all without being asked to do so," he hissed.

The lady's maid turned red in the face, but kept silent.

Mrs Morgan fished in her pocket, withdrawing a purse and extracting a bundle of five pound notes from within.

"Here, Sir! Recompense for your daughter's dress."

Mr Trenchard ignored the money. "It does not recompense me for the fact that your servant laid his hands upon my daughter, Madam!"

"Mr Turton…?" Lady Morgan turned and asked him, a gentle smile upon her face.

"I had to grab her arm to urge her over to the side or she would have been knocked down by the carriage," he admitted.

"There! See! Rough handling!" the lady's maid spat back.

"If it please you, Ma'am." 

Mrs Morgan turned. A crowd had gathered around them, enjoying the spectacle as being free entertainment. A pair of costermongers approached her.

She nodded at the two fellows.

"We saw all and it's as your man says, Ma'am. The young Miss here was dawdling with her maidservant and both would have been knocked to the floor had your man here not intervened."

Mrs Morgan gave the two men a grateful smile then turned back towards Mr Trenchard. She moved to stand in front of Mr Turton, placing herself between him and Mr Trenchard.

"I would be grateful if you would quit this scene and refrain from your unfounded harassment of my staff, Sir! I'm sure that you have better things to do with your time than haranguing and bullying others!"

"I was not bullying, Madam!"

"It is most definitely bullying if you harass those who cannot respond in a likewise manner because of their lower station, for fear of reprimand by the law!"

Mr Trenchard spluttered. "You would defend this man who stole and offered treason to his master and mistress?"

"Yes!  _ With my dying breath! _ Now, if that is all you have to offer, I would caution you to continue along this route, Sir. Do you really wish to go up against myself in a court of law?"

"A court of law? For what reason?" 

"For harassment and causing distress to my person, Sir! Now, I assume that we are done here, I have more pressing matters to attend upon," she turned to leave.

"What! Absurdities!" He placed a hand on her arm to stop her.

She looked down at it, then raised her eyes up towards Mr Trenchard, squinting them up at him. She held her other arm out behind her, placing it on Mr Turton's arm upon hearing him suck in a breath and take a step forward.

"I would suggest that you remove your hand, Sir, unless you wish for assault to be added to that list to be brought before a magistrate?"

His hand was removed and he glared at her.

"I will bid you good day, Sir!" she stood firmly, sending a glare back at him. Flanked on either side by Mr Turton and Mr Jones. She stood her ground, waiting. Mr Trenchard gave way first. Backing down with a nod as he gathered his daughter and pushed his way through the crowd. The maid offered Lady Morgan and Mr Turton one last sneer before following on after her employers.

-

Back at the house, Mr Turton pulled Lady Morgan aside. 

"I'm sorry that you had to get caught up in that scene…"

"It is nothing, it's over. I must say though, that man needs to get his daughter a better mannered maid!"

"Ah… Miss Speer. I thought that she had left the Trenchard's employ. But she has obviously managed to somehow worm her way back. She's a nasty piece of work, and I'm sorry that you had to deal with that evil baggage!"

Lady Morgan giggled.

"What?" he asked, peering at her with a lopsided grin and brows creased in a query.

"Evil baggage!" she snickered, "I hope I never warrant getting described like that!" 

"No! Never!" he frowned, "you are nothing like that at all!" he shook his head, pausing before he continued. "Lady Morgan… Did you mean what you said… back there…?"

"Yes. All of it!"

"Even the part where you said that you would defend me ' _ with my dying breath _ '?" he whispered.

"Yes," she said simply.

He nodded. "In return then, know that I will do my utmost to protect you, my Lady. As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you," he vowed.


End file.
